If the post here is protected, it’s probably because I’m ranting about something (read: someone) in my life and am trying to spare feelings. You don’t have to miss out, though. Providing we’re somewhat acquainted (but don’t share DNA), you can ask for the password on my contact page!

Kids and dogs make home improvement so laborious. In the last ten years, our small-but-perfectly formed little house has … well, declined. You know the kind of thing. The scuff marks by the front door – the kind of marks that would’ve sent me hurling into a cycle of shame and embarrassment pre-motherhood – now get darker and darker, until the hallway looks more like a railway tunnel than the entrance to a (mostly) habitable home. The lounge carpet – originally only tolerated until we could lay oak flooring, darling – today looks less endless sky blue, and more cesspool blue. There was a time I cared about all this stuff. That time is not now. We made some in-roads a couple of months back – painted the hall, stairs and landing, sanded and repainted skirting boards, that sort of thing – but we lost focus, and our efforts tailed off. M, as...

If the post here is protected, it’s probably because I’m ranting about something (read: someone) in my life and am trying to spare feelings. You don’t have to miss out, though. Providing we’re somewhat acquainted (but don’t share DNA), you can ask for the password on my contact page!

Recommended Reading

Instagrammage

Currently Enjoying

What?

This is my own special place; my small, slightly grubby corner of the internet. Come on in, get comfy, comment (we don't stand on ceremony here), nose around and feel free to ask me anything. Don't be afraid to introduce yourself or pop back again.

Regular visitors get free wi-fi, bottomless cups of coffee and free cake. Only two statements in that last sentence are untrue. Also, the cake is a lie.